


The Breakfast of Edna Fitzgerald

by zaticon1



Category: Emetophilia - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaticon1/pseuds/zaticon1





	The Breakfast of Edna Fitzgerald

The Breakfast of Edna Fitzgerald 

The story comes down from a chick who's been aroun'  
Of "a boat ride that really got to me".  
The lass to me said all that butter and bread  
Made her chance of not hurling look gloomy.  
She had breakfast galore, 3000 cal'ries or more,  
Young Miss Edna Fitzgerald ate plenty.  
That good food it's true was all carefully chewed  
When she sailed on that gray morning early.  
The eggs, they were fried with greasy ham on the side  
Covered up with some cheese from Wisconson  
And the home fries, you know, they were thicker than most  
With a crust and a flavor well seasoned.  
Consuming the spread sopping grease up with bread  
She left almost too bloated for breathin'.  
She was packed so tight she noticed a pang  
Could it be nausea she was feeling?  
The load on her chest was roiling around  
And figured she'd stay by the railing  
She was scared 'cause she knew what that usually led to,  
As her head and her tummy went reeling.  
She realized late breakfast was a mistake  
When she felt how her stomach was sloshing  
The next wave that came was genuine pain  
And her face was the color of frog skin.  
When another swell came she felt just like dreck  
Saying Dramamine, I really need ya  
At 11:00 AM she was salivatin'  
And said breakfast it's time now to throw ya.  
She heaved and gave in her resolve had grown thin  
And she knew she was truly in peril  
And over the rail and right down out of sight  
Went the breakfast of Edna Fitzgerald.  
The worst part, you know, the thing that really blows  
Is she lasted for almost five hours  
She swears to this day she'd have made the whole way  
On a ride just fifteen miles shorter.  
She'd not have spit up, no she would have been fine,  
Had all of that motion not caught her  
The fact still remains the results of the game  
Are the thick greasy chunks on the water.  
She heaved up rolls, and slimier things  
It came in a nice watery fashion  
Old mush that did steam like curdled ice cream,  
The sounds that she made were like yodelin'.  
The water below that sloshed to and fro  
Swallowed all that sweet Edna had in her  
And she let it all go because she had to, you know  
'As the gales of November demanded.  
At that trusty old rail to the sea god she prayed;  
Call it mal de mar; seasick; upheaval.......  
The stuff they call chyme, it came up 29 times  
From the throat of fair Edna Fitzgerald.  
The story comes down from a chick who's been aroun'  
Of "a boat ride that really got to me."  
The lass to me said you'd be better off dead  
When the gales and the waves make you hurly.


End file.
